By Matt Underwood It’s baffling to me how Candace Owens can so easily dismiss the identities of Kamala Harris and Barack Obama, two individuals who have undeniably shaped Black representation in America. When Owens boldly states that there is “nothing” about them that is Black, it reveals more about her perspective than it does about their identities. It seems to stem from a desire to gatekeep Blackness, an absurd notion that one can measure the authenticity of another’s lived experience or heritage based solely on arbitrary criteria.
Barack Obama, the first Black President of the United States, and Kamala Harris, the first female Vice President, both have African ancestry that is undeniable. Obama’s father was Kenyan, and Harris’s father hailed from Jamaica. Yet Owens seems obsessed with their upbringing, questioning their connection to a collective Black experience just because they were raised in predominantly white environments. It’s as if she believes that external circumstances dilute their identity. This obsession with “authenticity” is utterly misplaced; the Black experience is not a monolith but a diverse tapestry woven from countless stories and backgrounds.
Owens appears locked in a paradox of her own making. She portrays herself as a bastion of conservative values while simultaneously critiquing others for not fitting into her narrow definition of Blackness. Her rhetoric suggests that unless you adhere to her ideals or experiences, you somehow forfeit your cultural credibility. It’s almost cartoonish, as she labels the outreach of Obama and Harris as an effort to “blackify” politics. This type of thinking does a disservice to the complex ways identity operates within society. It also plays into the hands of those who would rather see division than unity within the Black community.
I can’t help but feel a sense of sorrow for someone like Owens, who seems to struggle with her own identity. Her willingness to critique other Black figures while cozying up to white supremacist rhetoric speaks volumes. To use terms like “wearing blackface” when referring to two individuals who clearly own their Blackness shows a profound misunderstanding of identity politics. It’s rich for someone who, at times, seems to be a caricature of a woman desperate to distance herself from her heritage while enjoying the privileges it provides. This is not an uncommon conflict among those who feel that success requires abandoning one’s roots.
Moreover, it’s worth recognizing that both Obama and Harris were elected not only for the color of their skin but also for their qualifications and policies. I voted for both of them because I believed they were capable leaders, and their identities as Black Americans enriched their understanding of the issues faced by the community. For Owens to suggest that their political achievements are merely a product of their race is indicative of her myopic view of leadership. Leadership should encompass diverse experiences and perspectives, not be reduced to a simplistic argument about “authenticity.”
Owens choosing to dismiss the achievements of others while embodying a version of Blackness that excludes the multifaceted truth of Black identity is profoundly troubling. It betrays a lack of understanding of the systemic challenges that many Black Americans face—even those who navigate different spheres of life than she does. Our experiences are not monolithic, and condemning those who have different paths only perpetuates the cycle of division.
Candace Owens’s words seem increasingly desperate, more about seeking attention than fostering a genuine conversation about race and identity. It raises the question of who truly gets to define what it means to be Black in America. Shouldn’t it be the voices of those who are living their truths, regardless of whether they fit into a neatly defined box or not? Her comments reflect a larger discourse about identity in which authenticity is weaponized against those who dare to embrace their complexity.
Navigating identity is never straightforward. For many, including myself, it’s a layered experience influenced by culture, family history, and personal choices. To say that either Obama or Harris lacks a Black identity is to strip them of their life experiences, their struggles, and their contributions to a narrative that is much larger than any one individual can encapsulate. I ultimately wonder what it means for Candace Owens to position herself as the gatekeeper of Blackness while seemingly struggling with her own sense of belonging. This bizarre crusade ultimately discredits authentic discourse and robs us all of the enriching perspectives that diverse identities can offer.